


Hit Me With Your Best Shot

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wasn't the only one in denial or as said best by Meredith on Grey's Anatomy: <i>Denial: it's not just a river in Egypt. It's a freaking ocean.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit Me With Your Best Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for capitu for LJ's glompfest. I'd be remiss if I didn't say thank you to Barb for taking this pancake and making it a soufflé. Oh and thanks for not choking with laughter at "he covered his hands with his face". That has to be the best typo ever. And thanks to Sharon for finding the extra letters and missing words.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Harry shifted in his chair and looked out at his team of Aurors, trying to avoid a glance or two at Malfoy, when a loud crash sounded from the squad room. "Stop the fucking practical jokes!" he shouted, barely resisting the urge to pound his head on his desk. "Reinert, get your arse off the floor, for Christ's sake. Any Auror worth their salt would have felt that charm on his chair!"

If they didn't get a decent case soon, he was going to have to take the lot of them into some field and do some serious duelling practice to get the edge off. Although he knew how he'd rather be taking _his_ edge off or who he'd rather be taking it off with. It certainly wasn't with duelling practice. He closed his eyes and pushed the lewd thoughts he was having about Draco Malfoy from his mind, and returned to thinking about his band of bored Aurors. "It's like herding cats," he muttered. 

"Reinert's an idiot who wouldn't know a charm if it was stuck to his arse," Draco drawled from the doorway. "Although I am curious what you know about _herding cats_ , boss-man."

Harry _just_ managed to refrain from licking his lips and worked to suppress a grin. "Was there something you actually needed, Malfoy, or are you just here to reinforce my belief that no one is actually working today?"

Draco looked negligently at his nails. "While the sad imitations of the _Weasely-squared pair_ have been looking for new ways to be childish, I've been going over the Rotherham case."

"Rotherham..." Harry nodded. "Right. Possible drug trafficking. Leatherby was the ring leader. Suspicious activity in that area, but no leads and nothing positive. I thought that one went cold?"

"It did, but since no one's looked at it in a few weeks and there's nothing pressing at the moment..." He shrugged. "It seemed like a good case to start picking apart."

Harry thought about the case. They'd been called in when a fifteen-year-old girl hadn't come home after a pick-up Quidditch game. "At first they suspected she'd run off with the boyfriend, but she turned up the next morning."

"Right. Still pretty high from whatever she'd been drugged with." Draco growled. "When she was able to talk she gave us lots of details about a party, and how a couple of blokes there had been passing out drugs."

"Yeah, the party was in some old warehouse. By the time we got to it, everything was cleaned up and neat as a pin." He frowned, shaking his head. "Too neat. They'd emptied out and moved on."

Draco moved gracefully across the room and sat in one of the chairs across from Harry. "I think they're back."

Harry's gaze narrowed as he stared at Draco. 

"Before you get your pants in a twist," Draco continued, "I don't have any actual proof other than a gut feeling."

Harry sighed and leaned back into his chair, deflated. He bit back the snide comment on the tip of his tongue, knowing that Draco's instincts often paid off. "Fine. What makes you say that?"

"Think about it. Our investigation shows the drug ring had been operating out of that warehouse for nearly two years. They have a client base and _employees_. We come storming in, find nothing and let it go."

Harry nodded.

"It makes sense that they'd lay low for a time to see if we came sniffing around again. But we didn't. The girl was home and drug sales all but dried up. Until recently..."

"What happened?" Harry felt his pulse quicken. 

"It's not much," Draco continued, "but this morning there was an article in _The Times_ about a new drug that's turned up. Molly."

Harry blinked. "Did you just call me Molly?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, Dorothy, do keep up. Aren't you supposed to be on top of the latest designer drug scene? It's a powder form of the chemical used in Ecstasy and they've nicknamed it _Molly_."

"Sort of insulting to Mum Weasley," Harry muttered. 

"Focus, Potter!" Draco snapped. "I highly doubt that some Muggle named it Molly with the intention of insulting the mother of that brood. For fuck's sake, that lot could cause a mob action if they all got riled up."

"It was a joke, Malfoy." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Admittedly in poor taste, but what a thing to name a drug."

"Anyway," Draco went on, "this drug has a rep as _not as dangerous_ because it doesn't appear to be addictive. Of course there are other side effects and those can kill."

Harry sat back in his chair. "What makes you think it's connected to Rotherham?"

"It's right up their alley. Designer drug, popular with kids. Potter, think about it. It's a market they'd want to get into. And my gut tells me I'm spot on with this."

"Understood. But I can't put the team together and storm the place based on your _gut_." He held up a hand to stop Draco's protest. "You and Jenkins go put some eyes on the warehouse. If you get some proof that things are heating up again, I'll talk to Kingsley and we'll go in."

Draco stood. "Fair enough. Thanks."

"Damn good proof, Malfoy. No matter how good your instincts are, Kingsley isn't going to authorize any kind of a raid based on a hunch."

Harry watched him turn and leave, then sat back in his chair. He'd have to work at keeping his thoughts focused on Draco's instincts instead of his arse.

~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~

Nearly a week had passed since Harry assigned Draco and Jenkins to watch the warehouse. There had been no activity, and he was beginning to think that Draco's intuition wasn't so brilliant after all when he heard a knock at his door. Without waiting for a summons, Draco came bursting in.

"You can kiss me now," he said as he struggled to catch his breath.

Harry blinked quickly several times in an attempt to pull his brain back from that mental image. "Beg pardon?" he managed.

Draco sat in the chair across from Harry, only to spring out of it just as quickly. "We've got him! You've got to get the team together. We need to move quickly."

"Details, Malfoy. I can't just throw a team out there. I have to convince Kingsley."

"No time," Draco pressed. "We have to move now!"

"Malfoy!" Harry said sternly. "Sit down, for fuck's sake. I haven't heard a damn word from you or Jenkins in nearly a week and you come flying in here demanding I send a team in. It doesn't work that way and you know it." 

Draco flopped dramatically into the chair. "Then get Kingsley in here so I only have to go over this once and we can get things moving." He gave Harry an exasperated look. "Now, Potter! Chop, chop! Time's wasting."

Harry's jaw hardened, and he leaned forward, elbows on his desk and fingers tented. "I might not despise the sight of you anymore, Malfoy, but I _am_ your boss. Now, tell me what you've got and I'll decide how to proceed."

Draco glared, his lips pinched. Harry didn't back down. 

"You know if we don't do this by the book, anything we find will be thrown out of court. So either tell me what you've found or stop wasting my time."

Draco huffed. "Seven years," he muttered, "you go around breaking the rules and now you're all _by the book_." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. The first three days I was beginning to think I was wrong. We went out in four-hour stretches at different times each day. And yes, before you ask, we went during the day and at night."

Harry nodded, beginning to jot down notes on a parchment. 

"The fourth night we went out around twenty-three hundred."

"That would have been Monday?" 

"Right. Shortly before oh-one hundred we saw a flicker of light from inside the warehouse. It wasn't very bright, so we weren't sure if it was kids or the dealers. Another hour went by with no more activity, and I was about to tell Jenkins we were done for the night."

"Where is Jenkins?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't he be here for this?"

Draco raised a hand and gestured towards the squad room. "He's writing up the report, like a good little Auror, because I knew you'd want it as soon as possible."

Harry resisted rolling his eyes. Barely. "Continue."

"Anyway, I was just about to tell Jenkins we should pack it in when I heard a pop - you know, like someone had just Apparated. I cast a Listening Charm and heard someone opening the door to the warehouse."

"Could you see who it was?" 

Draco shook his head. "But just before the door closed I heard someone call out for Leatherby."

Cautious excitement made Harry straighten. "Leatherby is back? Are you sure?" 

"No, Potter," Draco drawled. "I really didn't hear a thing. This has all been a huge ruse to get you to talk to Shacklebolt...put a team together...and raid an empty warehouse."

Harry sat quietly, tapping his quill on the desk, trying to decide how to best proceed.

"For the love of Christ!" Draco burst out, clearly exasperated. "Contact Shacklebolt before they disappear again, you moron!"

Harry glared at Draco. "Watch yourself, Malfoy. I put up with a lot from you because you're good, but don't over-step." 

Draco collapsed back into the chair dramatically, and Harry sent an inter-office memo to Shacklebolt, hoping it would start the wheels turning.

~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~

In less than two hours Harry had put together a team of twelve Aurors who would go on the raid. He split them into four teams of three, allowing for all sides of the building to be covered. Because they weren't sure if the drug dealers were working with Muggles, each team had one Auror who was trained in firearms, armed with a Glock. After much consideration, he teamed Draco with Jenkins and Cudahy rather than with Jenkins and himself. He knew his feelings for his co-worker could end up affecting his responses and the last thing he needed was the raid being fucked up due to his actions.

They Apparated to the rendezvous point and Harry pulled them together to once more go over their assignments. 

"Team A, you're on the north side of the building. Team B the south. Team C on the east and my team, Team D, we're on the west. If you have a door, your firearms specialist enters first." He looked over each team, waiting for a confirming nod.

"We do not fire unless they shoot first. There will be serious hell to pay if anyone shoots a wizard who is unarmed. If they don't shoot, holster your weapons and use your wands." He touched his right ear. "Everyone have their micro earbuds in place? Good. Move into position. We go on my signal."

Harry signalled for all teams to move. They entered quietly and quickly. He'd specifically placed Draco on Team D so he'd be able to keep an eye on him from across the warehouse. He told himself it was because Draco's weapons specialist wasn't the strongest, but he knew better. 

Moments after they entered, Harry heard someone shout, "Aurors!"

Immediately Harry's focus became raising Shield Charms with one hand and shooting curses and hexes with his wand. No one fired a gun, so the weapons were holstered and everyone joined in the fight. Curses were flying and try as he might Harry couldn't always keep Draco in his line of vision. Aurors had quickly managed to take down six of the dealers and the final two were losing against three of Harry's best duellers. Harry caught sight of Draco across the room, securing restraints on one of the suspects, and relaxed. 

As the last two dealers fell, Harry turned to enter what appeared to be an office. He reached for the door knob when a man burst through the door, a pistol raised. Draco was the only Auror in his line of fire, and he pointed the gun at him. Harry grabbed his wrist. 

"Draco!" Harry shouted. 

Draco looked up, eyes wide when he saw Harry struggling with the armed drug dealer. He pulled his wand and ran toward Harry. 

" _Incarcerous_!" Draco shouted. Ropes shot from his wand, catching the gunman off guard. He fell to the ground just as Harry wrestled the gun from his grip. The dealer pulled the trigger just as Harry yanked it from his hand, and a bullet blasted from the barrel. 

Harry watched in horror as the bullet seemed to move in slow motion across the room. Shouting 'no' didn’t prevent the bullet from hitting Draco right above his left knee. He dropped to the floor like a stone, his hands clutching at his leg.

"Oh fuck," Draco screamed. He looked up and saw the gun in Harry's hand. "You shot me, Potter!" He said in disbelief. "You fucking shot me!"

Harry shoved the gun into the hands of the Auror behind him before rushing to Draco's side. Draco's face was already paler than normal and slicked with sweat, and blood began to darken his trouser leg. Harry fell to his knees at Draco's side, reaching out.

"Oh shite! Draco, the gun went off!" Harry placed a hand to the bleeding wound, pressing hard. Blood welled between his fingers. "Oh god, does it hurt?"

Draco look at him incredulously as his eyes went slightly glassy. "Are you fucking insane? I need a fucking Healer, you moron!"

Harry's head swivelled frantically as he searched the room for something to use as a tourniquet and saw his team standing around like startled sheep, staring at the chaos in front of them. He yanked off his own belt and slipped it around Draco's thigh, tightening it down with a hard pull just above the wound. Draco groaned and Harry spared him a glance. "Sorry," he muttered, then glared at the team of Aurors, who seemed incapable of tearing their eyes away from the blood pooling on the floor. "Jenkins, you're in charge. Get these assholes rounded up and sent to booking at the Ministry. The rest of you," he raised his voice, glaring at them –"help him. I want reports from each one of you."

Draco moaned as Harry cinched the belt tighter around his leg.

Jenkins looked down at Draco. "Shouldn't someone get a Healer for Malfoy?"

Harry shook his head.

"No time to get someone here," he said. He scooped Draco off the floor and into his arms, then stood and turned on the spot as they Disapparated.

~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~

Harry Apparated directly into Casualty at St Mungo's, running down the hall as soon as he landed. His arms ached from the weight of the man he carried, but he ignored the pain.

"Get me a Healer! Now!" Harry bellowed.

Nurses and staff came into the hall to see what the noise was. "Auror Potter," a small, toad-faced man squeaked. "You mustn't raise such a racket."

Harry glared and laid Draco on the nearest gurney. "You want to hear a racket? Keep trying to shush me! This man's been shot! I need a fucking Healer now!"

Draco raised his head and spoke through gritted teeth. "Tone it down, Potter, you're making my fucking head hurt." 

Harry watched as several medical personnel, apparently convinced by his tone, swarmed around Draco and rolled the gurney into a treatment room. He moved to follow, and the toad-faced man put a hand on his chest. "Auror Potter, I must insist that you wait out here."

Harry ran a bloodied hand through his hair. "I can't. He's...," his voice broke, "he's one of mine. I can't leave him."

"Be that as it may," the man continued in his thin, high pitched voice, "I cannot allow you inside. Have a seat, and I'll be back with a report on his condition as soon as possible." He gestured to a chair down the hall. 

Harry turned, shoulders bunched and tight, stalked to the chair and sat. It felt as unforgiving as it looked, although he barely noticed. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at his bloody hands, foot tapping. His brain was racing a mile a minute, going over and over every single step of the operation. He remembered when he dropped his guard. The minute that arsewipe had blasted through the door. And he remembered how slowly the bullet had seemed to move across the room. In hind-sight, he recalled that he'd done nothing but watch it hit the man he loved. Because he did love Draco; he had for a very long time. He was only now admitting it to himself. 

He was so caught up in his misery he didn't hear the click of heels as they hurried towards him down the hall. 

"Oh thank Merlin it's not you, Harry," Hermione said, her hand on his shoulder. 

Harry looked up, brow furrowed. "Hermione? Why are you here?" 

"Because I was in the stationery store and they had the wireless on. A news bulletin said there had been a raid and that Auror Potter had been taken to St Mungo's."

"Me?"

"Are you hurt?" Hermione asked. "There's blood all over you." She knelt next to him and took one of his hands, examining it. 

"It's not mine. It's Malfoy's." Harry rubbed his forehead with the heel of his other hand. "He was shot. And I fucking stood there like I didn't have a brain in my head."

Hermione stood and summoned a chair and sat next to Harry. "Harry, he'll be fine. I'm sure they have their best people working on him right now."

Harry nodded, staring at his shoes. There was even a spot of blood on the leather.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Hermione laid her hand on Harry's arm. "Does he know?" she asked softly.

"Does who know what?" Harry replied flatly. He didn't want to talk to her about it, not yet.

"That might work with someone else, Harry, but it's me. I've known you for over half my life."

Harry looked at her, frowning.

"Okay if that's how you want to play this, I'll ask again," she said, her expression turning cross. Harry should have known better than to try to dissuade her. "Does Draco know how you feel about him?"

Harry felt his face heat as he looked at the floor. Eventually he looked back at Hermione. "He's on my team. Of course he knows I worry about his welfare."

"Oh, I see. So if it were, oh let's say Reinert in the exam room, you'd be sitting here with your heart in your mouth?"

"Hermione, it's not...I'm not...I don't...," Harry stammered, but he could tell by looking at Hermione that denial was futile. "Oh shit, Hermione. What am I going to do?" He closed his eyes. 

She bumped him with her shoulder. "Maybe you should tell him."

"I can't do that. He already thinks I'm an idiot, which I just proved by _shooting him in the leg_!"

"You aren't an idiot." She spoke firmly, but a giggle escaped despite her efforts to hold it in. "You really shot him?"

"It's not funny!" Harry retorted. 

"You're right. You're right, it's not funny." She was clearly trying not to laugh, but another giggle slipped out. Harry glared at her. "I'm sorry...it's a little bit funny."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut when a door opened near the treatment rooms. He jumped up when he saw the toady little Healer scurrying towards him. Hermione rose to stand at his side.

"Auror Potter," he squeaked. He stopped and looked at Hermione. "And you are?"

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Oh please, it's Healer Grenouille." A light blush spread across his bald little head, and he smiled so widely he appeared to be all teeth. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss—"

Harry interrupted, irritated beyond the ability to keep quiet. "Maybe you could tell me how my man is, unless you're too busy flirting with my friend?"

"Harry!"

Healer Grenouille sniffed. "Certainly Auror Potter. Mr Malfoy is currently resting comfortably. The bullet was removed from his leg, but a gunshot wound cannot be healed with magic."

"What?" Harry said. "If the bullet's out, why can't you heal up the entry wound?"

Healer Grenouille shook his head. "I'm afraid the wizard's body treats an injury like this as if it were a dark curse. If we try to intervene with magic, Mr Malfoy's body would _protest_ and he could very possibly lose his leg. If we allow him to heal on his own, although it will take several weeks, I suspect he will regain nearly all the function in his knee. With considerable physical therapy, of course."

" _Nearly_ all the function?!" Harry's voice rose several decibels. "Nearly isn't good enough!" 

"Harry!" Hermione said sharply. "You know that right out of operatory Healer Grenouille isn't going to be able to tell you Draco will recover one hundred percent, although he most likely will." She turned to the Healer and gave him an imploring look. 

"Yes, yes," Healer Grenouille stumbled over his words, "that's precisely what I meant. Now if you'll excuse me." He scurried down the hall and away from them both.

"He's a toad of a man," Harry groused. 

Hermione laughed lightly. "Well that's appropriate since his surname means frog in French."

Harry smiled weakly. "Very appropriate. But it doesn't help me with my problem."

"Oh Harry, you really are slow sometimes." Hermione shook her head. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, my slightly dim-witted friend, that Healer Grenouille just handed you a way to show Draco you aren't an idiot _and_ a way to get into his pants."

Harry covered his face with his hands. "Promise me you'll never mention my getting into Malfoy's pants again and then you can explain how I'm supposed to prove I'm not a complete tool."

She smirked at him, but went on. "Draco will need time to recover."

"Of course he will...from the gunshot wound **I** inflicted on him. How's that supposed to help?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He'll need to stay with someone." She paused waiting for a reaction, huffing when none came. "I doubt he'd want to stay with his mother in the Manor. All those stairs, no one around but house elves. So he'll need a place to stay where everything is on one level. Somewhere fairly large with an empty spare bedroom with its own bath."

Harry continued to stare blankly.

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "You can invite him to stay with you! You have the perfect flat. It's large enough for the both of you and you have two unused bedrooms, so you can turn one into a physical therapy room for him." Her eyes shone with excitement.

Harry thought about it. He rubbed his chin and then slowly smiled. "You know, it might just work at that." He pulled Hermione into a hug.

~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~

Draco woke with a mind-numbing headache and hushed voices droning in the background.

"For the love of Merlin whoever that is," Draco said thickly, "shut the fuck up." 

"Language, darling," he heard his mother say softly. 

Draco forced an eye open. "Mum?"

Narcissa smiled tenderly. "Hello, love." She moved to his side. "Mr Potter was kind enough to inform me of your injuries and arrange for me to be here."

"He damn well should since the son of a bitch is the one who shot me," Draco grumbled. 

"And he's quite sorry and embarrassed about the entire situation," he heard Potter say, his tone apologetic. 

Draco groaned loudly. "Oh just shoot me now." He raised his hand palm out toward Potter. "NO!" He cried out quickly. "Ignore that, you already did! Don't get any more ideas."

His rant was interrupted by a team of Healers swarming through the door. They poked and prodded Draco until his mood had gone from cranky to downright surly. The Healers made notes on charts that popped from the room when they were finished. All the Healers bustled back out except Healer Grenouille. "Mr Malfoy seems to be recovering nicely from his injuries," he croaked out. "It appears he'll be able to leave within the next few days." He cast a quick glance at Potter and scurried out the door.

"Draco," Narcissa continued as if there hadn't been a twenty minute break in their conversation. "Mr Potter has explained what happened and told me how very sorry he is. I do not believe that you were shot on purpose."

Draco scowled. "He still shot me." He looked down at his leg. "Why is it wrapped? Didn't they heal me?"

Harry began to speak, but Narcissa held up a hand and gave him a knowing look. "You were taken to operatory for the removal of the bullet. But if you recall, it was a Muggle gun and they are unable to heal you with magic, love. I'm afraid you'll have to recuperate and heal the _old-fashioned_ way."

"Oh, so I'll be moving to the Manor then." He sighed. "I guess that would be better than being alone in my flat. Will you be fixing the east wing for me?" Draco looked at his mother, surprised to find her looking anywhere but at his face.

"Actually," she replied, "that's what Mr Potter and I were discussing when you woke. You're going to be moving into Mr Potter's flat and he's going to be working with you while you recuperate." She smiled widely, her eyes returning to his. "Isn't that wonderful news? You won't have to move back to the drafty east wing with no one to keep you company but Blippy. You'll have someone there all the time."

Draco looked from his mother to Potter and back again...twice. Potter tried a charming smile the second time Draco looked at him. When Draco spoke his voice was low and tone hard. "You want me to move in with the imbecile who shot me. Make him responsible for my care and therapy, which I wouldn't need if he hadn't _shot me_! How in the name of Morgana's saggy tits does that make any sense to you?" By the time he was done, his voice had taken on a desperate edge.

"Draco," his mother said. Her tone was the one that brooked no argument, the one that told him this was a done deal and he'd have to just suck it up. She turned to Harry. "Mr Potter, if you'd give us a few minutes."

Harry shook his head. "If you don't mind, Mrs Malfoy, I'd rather stay and hear what Draco has to say about me. I can't exactly defend myself if I'm in the hall."

Narcissa frowned. "Be that as it may, Mr Potter, I believe I need to speak to my son in private. Now if you would excuse us."

Harry looked at the stern set of Narcissa's face and the smug look of satisfaction on Draco's and rolled his eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he said as he left the room.

Draco started to speak, only to be immediately shushed by his mother. 

"Do not think for one minute that I asked Mr Potter to leave for you. I have a few things I'd like to say to you, and when I'm finished I am quite certain that you'll be the one who is glad he is out of the room."

Draco's brow creased. 

"You know as well as I do that the fact you were shot is not Mr Potter's fault. I also understand your need to take _jabs_ at him about it. However, if you ever intend to get the man into your bed, I seriously suggest you cease with them now."

"I...in my...what?" Draco stammered before forcing a blank look on his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Narcissa sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Darling, you may be able to fool Mr Potter and your friends, you may even believe you're fooling yourself. But I am your mother, and I know you."

Draco looked down and plucked at the sheets. 

"You've been infatuated with him since your first meeting in Diagon Alley all those years ago. Do you think I haven't noticed that nearly every man you've dated has had dark hair?"

"So I like brunets, that's no crime," Draco said defensively. 

"Perhaps if you could see what I see when the two of you are in a room together," Narcissa continued. "Both of you spare tiny glances when you think the other isn't paying attention."

"Say I do have a bit of a thing for Potter," Draco said moodily. "What in the world makes you think he feels the same?"

Narcissa smiled. "I see things. Little looks, it's difficult to explain, so you'll simply need to trust me on this. He is as interested in you as you are in him." 

"So what now? Potter comes back in and I _roll over like a puppy_ because my mum told me to?"

Narcissa gave him a beady stare. "Don't be silly. You continue to protest, mildly, I'll continue to push and after a few minutes you'll simply concede."

"You've become a bit devious; you know that, don't you?"

"You simply have no idea, darling," she replied, opening the door and waving Harry back into the room.

~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~

Harry waited in the hall, chewing on his thumb nail. It didn't take a genius to know Narcissa was telling her son that he had no choice in the matter. The decision had been made, and Draco was just going to have to deal with it. The more he considered it, the more he realized they really hadn't given Draco a choice or even asked him how he felt about recuperating at Harry's. With that realization, he began to understand Draco's resistance.

He knew if the situation were reversed and Ron and Hermione had blindsided him with the news he was going to recuperate at the Burrow, he'd be just as angry. He was so caught up in the thoughts of how to proceed to get Draco to come to his flat, it took a few moments for him to notice the door to Draco's room had opened and Narcissa Malfoy was motioning him back inside.

~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~

"Draco," Harry began as soon as he was inside.

"Mr Potter," Narcissa said at the same time. 

Harry laughed nervously and continued. "Normally, ma'am, I'd let you speak first, but what I have to say is important."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Draco, I'm sorry we never thought to ask you what you wanted to do, where you wanted to recover. You have to believe me that your mother and I both were thinking of what was best for you. Once I had a chance to think about it, I realized I'd be really pissed, pardon Mrs Malfoy, if no one had asked me what I wanted."

"Wait," Draco shot out, face the picture of complete bafflement. "You're asking me what I want? Now? That's not how it's supposed to work! You're supposed to be—"

Narcissa placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, successfully interrupting his rant. "You'll have to excuse Draco, Mr Potter. He always has been sensitive to pain potions. What my son is trying to say is after some consideration, he would be pleased to take you up on your offer to allow him to recuperate at your flat. Isn't that right, darling?" She tightened her grip on Draco's shoulder.

"Yes, absolutely," Draco squeaked out. "Let go of my bloody shoulder," he hissed under his breath.

Narcissa patted the shoulder she'd just released. "Wonderful. Now that that's settled, I'll head over to your flat and pack a few things for you, Draco." She kissed Draco on the head and swept out of the room. 

Harry rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "You sure you're okay with this, Malfoy?"

Draco nodded. "Fine, just a bit sleepy." He closed his eyes. "Perfectly fine," he repeated before falling asleep.

Harry watched him sleep for a few minutes. He longed to run his hands over the pale skin and kiss the perfect mouth. He shoved his hands in his pockets. _Get a grip, Potter,_ he said to himself as he turned to leave, _or this is going to be pure hell_.

~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~

After much discussion at the hospital on the best way to transport Draco to Harry's flat, they finally decided Apparition was the safest and least jarring way to accomplish the trip.

They Apparated directly into Harry's living room, Draco wrapped in Harry's arms, his weight lifted from his injured knee. They stood for several seconds that way until Draco decided that very soon Harry was going to know _exactly_ how he felt about his current position, held tightly against a hard, muscular body.

"As much as I enjoy being held in someone's arms, Potter," Draco drawled, willing his voice to remain level, "my knee is beginning to throb like a bitch and elevating it seems in order."

"Huh?" Harry looked down at the top of Draco's head. "Oh fuck, sorry, Malfoy, here..." He picked Draco up and carried him to the sofa and laid him down. "Let me get you some pillows for your leg, eh?"

Draco was pleased to see that Harry was sporting a bit of wood himself, as well as rosy cheeks as he scurried off down the hall. Draco took a moment to adjust himself and then looked around the room. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the room was not decorated in red and gold, but rather in subtle tones of caramel and tans with accents of deep cerulean. It wasn't messy, but it was definitely lived-in and decidedly "Potter". There were photos everywhere. On the walls, the mantle and even on the side tables. Most were Wizarding photos, mini-clips of life repeating over and over, but several were still Muggle style. 

Draco stopped perusing the room when he heard Harry coming back, pillows and blanket in hand. 

"I hope its okay here," Harry said. "I'm sure you're used to much nicer things, furniture...well, you know." He arranged a pillow behind Draco's back and one under his legs. "Did you want a blanket? I brought one out but then didn't know if you'd want it, but it's here if you do." He stepped back and rubbed his hands nervously on his thighs.

"Potter, you're difficult to understand under the best circumstances, but right now you're blathering on like you've never met me before." He smirked. "I was actually admiring your decor and thanking Merlin I wasn't going to be subjected to red and gold for this recuperation. That would have been more than my poor eyes could have handled."

Harry laughed and placed a hand on his chest. "Wait. Was I just complimented by Draco Malfoy?" He raised his hand against his forehead and pretended to swoon. "Be still my heart."

Draco sniffed. "Don't get used to it. I was about to ask who you used for a decorator. You'll never convince me that you put this room together yourself."

"And he's back." Harry said with a laugh. "If you must know I dated someone who did interior design. You have them to thank for not needing a blindfold."

"I'll have to get her name, she's quite good."

"He's quite good," Harry said absently.

"Interesting," Draco replied. "Just how good was he?"

Harry rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. "I'll put some lunch together, Malfoy."

~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~

Malfoy's wound improved over the next few weeks, but not to hear him tell it. And frankly Harry had had just about enough of being a _slave_ to him. When he realized his leave time was up and he'd be returning to work, half days for another two weeks, he nearly danced in the kitchen.

"Potter!" Draco called out, effectively ruining his good mood. "Where's my lunch?"

Harry walked into the living room where Draco had taken over his sofa. "You know you're perfectly able to walk into the kitchen and sit at the table. In fact, I heard your therapist tell you to stop coddling your leg."

"You heard no such thing," Draco replied. "Besides, you have no idea how my leg feels. It still hurts to put too much pressure on it."

"Fine," Harry said, turning back to the kitchen and muttering _hippogriff_ under his breath. He came back out with a tray which he placed on the table next to Draco. "Here you go, your highness, or do you need me to feed you too?"

Draco shot him the finger. 

"By the way," Harry continued, ignoring the gesture, "I go back to work on Monday."

Draco looked shocked. "What? You can't! Who's going to take care of me when you're gone? I refuse to allow you to work." 

Harry shook his head and laughed. "Honestly, Malfoy, you sound like a five-year-old. You'll be fine. I'm only going in half days. Tracy will be here for therapy during most of that time, so you won't be alone. Besides, I've used up most of my leave time."

"Fine," Draco said with a sniff. "Leave me here after you shot me."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to avoid choking the life out of Draco. "You know that wasn't intentional, so stop using it to make me feel guilty."

"I'm not using it to make you feel guilty, you absolute moron! I'm using it so I can stay here until you figure out how to make a move." Draco clasped a hand over his mouth, looking as startled as Harry felt.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Draco answered quickly.

Harry stalked over to the couch and leaned over Draco. "So you're saying you wouldn't protest if I did this?" He lowered his mouth to Draco's, kissing him gently. He lifted his head and studied Draco's eyes. "Or maybe if I did this?" He leaned in and kissed Draco again, running his tongue along Draco's lips as his hand slid down over his thin pyjama pants to rest on Draco's thigh. He squeezed lightly and then pulled back.

"Or maybe I simply misunderstood you," Harry said huskily. 

Draco grabbed Harry's hand and moved it to press the bulge at his groin. "No, I think you understood perfectly."

Harry toed off his Chucks and moved to push Draco down onto the couch, then paused. "This isn't going to work."

Draco looked up, eyes wide. "I think it's working just fine."

"Not this," Harry waved his hand between the two of them. "This," he said, gesturing to the sofa. "Hang on." He waved a hand in the air, and the couch more than doubled in width. 

"Oh Merlin, wandless," Draco gasped. "Have you any idea how hot that makes me?" Draco pulled Harry down for another kiss. This one was bruising and hard, all teeth and tongue. 

Harry lay on top of Draco, careful not to put any of his weight on Draco's bad leg. "Gods, I want to fuck you, Malfoy."

"While I'm still young, I hope," Draco said rutting against Harry. He reached around Harry's side and pulled his tee shirt up and off. "Too many clothes," he muttered, his lips against Harry's bare shoulder. 

"I might say the same to you," Harry countered as he pushed Draco's pyjama top off and latched his mouth onto a pert nipple, worrying it with his tongue. His hand moved to massage Draco through his pants. 

"Off, take them off," Draco moaned. He raised his hips, allowing Harry to push the offending fabric down and off. 

"You're perfect," Harry said, nipping his way down Draco's torso. He stopped when his mouth was right over Draco's cock and he exhaled warm breath over it before tonguing the slit to capture the moisture that collected there. His lips slipped over the head and he pulled all of Draco into his mouth, while his other hand moved down to cup his bollocks. Harry's mouth slid up and down the shaft, ignoring Draco as he tried to push him away. As Harry pressed the tip of his finger against Draco's hole, he felt Draco shudder as his back arched impossibly, and he came. Harry swallowed it down. 

He finally pushed up, wiping at his lips. 

"I thought you were going to fuck me," Draco said, almost petulantly. 

"Oh I am," Harry said, rolling to the side to remove his trousers and pants. "That was just to get the edge off so I can take my time with you. _Accio lube_ ," he said, holding a hand in the air. 

When the bottle came racing from the bedroom, Harry caught it and flipped the lid open in one movement. He squirted some onto his fingers and slid a hand between Draco's arse cheeks. One finger ghosted over the furled skin, while another pressed gently inside. 

"Oh god, yes," Draco let his legs fall open, head pressing back into the sofa.

Harry smiled and pushed in further, then pulled out slowly before adding another finger. 

"Just fuck me already, Potter," Draco growled. 

 

"I don't want to hurt you."

Draco looked at Harry's erection. "Impressive, but not frightening. Just do it."

Harry swatted Draco's arse. "Not exactly the way to get yourself shagged."

"I'm not getting myself shagged now either, am I. For Christ's sakes, Potter..." his voice trailed off as Harry removed his fingers, lined up and thrust into him. "Oh gods yes," Draco moaned. 

Harry lifted Draco's uninjured leg and put it on his shoulder, then made sure he wasn't putting any pressure on Draco's injured leg. He began to move, slowly at first, staring down into Draco's eyes. "You feel amazing," he murmured. 

"So do you," Draco answered, pink lips swollen and parted. Harry leaned over and kissed him, then lifted his head, his thrusts beginning to pick up speed. He changed his angle slightly, reaching around to grab Draco's arse and lift him. Draco squeaked and then let out a throaty groan, and Harry smiled slightly.

"There?" he asked, repeating the motion. Draco gasped and bit his lip, one hand gripping Harry's shoulder, the other moving briskly on his own cock. "There, Draco?"

"Christ, Potter! Yes, there. Now stop messing about and _do this_."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, beginning to move harder, faster. It wasn't long before they were both pulsing out their release. 

Harry lowered Draco's leg and rolled so Draco was curled against his side. He pulled a blanket over them both as their breathing returned to normal. 

"Should have suspected you were a cuddler," Draco said lazily. 

"I don't see you rushing to get away." Harry shifted so he could look at Draco. "This isn't gonna make things weird at work, is it?"

Draco didn't answer. 

"It is, isn't it?" Harry continued. "Shite."

"I suppose I could put in for a transfer," Draco said quietly. 

"No! I don't want you to do that. You love being an Auror," Harry said emphatically. 

Draco chuckled. "You know, Potter, the only reason I became an Auror was to be close to you. I thought maybe one day...well maybe one day we'd end up right here."

Harry studied his face carefully, looking to see if Draco was telling the truth or just saying what he thought Harry might want to hear. He saw nothing to make him doubt it in Draco's wide, guileless eyes. "I can get you transferred to another division," he said. "If you want."

"How?" Draco frowned.

Harry grinned. "Head Auror, killer of Voldemort, very powerful, remember?"

"There's the modest Potter we all know and love," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Fuck you."

Draco grinned and poked Harry in the side. "Been there, done that...darling. And it was delightful. Up for another round?"

Harry's grin turned salacious. "Oh, yeah."

~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~ ~~♥~~

"Honey, I'm home," Draco called out as he walked through the door.

Hermione shot Harry a grimace. "Why does he do that every single time he comes home? Aren't you tired of it by now?" She smiled at Draco. "Hello, Draco. How are things in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Fine." He sent her an evil grin. "I'd tell you about my job, but then I'd have to kill you."

Harry shook his head. "I never should have told you that line."

"I'd still like to know how you pulled his transfer off," she said to Harry, ignoring Draco's quip. 

"I have my ways." Harry sent Draco a sly look. 

Draco moved across the room and plopped down on Harry's lap. "My lover is a very powerful man, I'll have you know." He gave Harry a peck on the lips. "Or so he tells me." He winked, then pulled Harry into a deep kiss. 

"Oh, you two are just nauseating," Hermione huffed. Harry could feel her watching them, angling her head, studying the kiss carefully. "And just a bit sexy," she finally murmured under her breath. "Actually, far more than a bit."

Harry smiled against Draco's mouth.

Finis


End file.
